


For the Dancing

by LastHope



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Ballet, Dancing, Eidolon demons, F/F, Faerie Magic, Post City of Fallen Angels, Pre-City of Lost Souls, Sexual Frustration, This takes place RIGHT at the end of CoFA, there is a Labyrinth reference in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastHope/pseuds/LastHope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A demon was loose in Los Angeles, snacking on dancers in one of the ballet companies, and Helen and Aline were sent out to hunt it down. Set at the very end of City of Fallen Angels / very beginning of City of Lost Souls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Dancing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [llamabunnybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/llamabunnybird/gifts).



Helen had never really liked ballet.

For one, it was difficult, and she had never really seen the point of it.  For another, it was dreadfully _boring_.  Sure, classical music was nice and all, but she’d rather a nice hip-hop beat or rap any day of the week.  Helen also hated that her hair had to be pulled back into such a tight bun.  It _hurt_ , and she much rather preferred her hair long and loose and draped over her ears.

Dancing was something of a Shadowhunter staple, ever since pretty much the Dark Ages.  It was required, especially growing up in Idris (or in an Institute), to learn _some_ form of dancing.  Ballroom dancing was the most common due to old Shadowhunter festivals, but some Institutes taught other dance forms- the Institute in Mexico City taught salsa, the Madrid Institute taught tango, and the Beijing and St. Petersburg Institutes taught both ballroom and ballet.  One of the Institutes in Ireland taught tap.  Teaching dance hadn’t really fallen out of practice through the years, but most Institutes had lightened up on the dance requirement in their pupils’ studies.

The Los Angeles Institute taught ballroom dancing, and had _attempted_ teaching Helen- and only Helen -ballet.  At the time dance lessons had come about, only Helen and Mark had really been old enough to learn, so ballroom dancing came first.  Katerina had taught them in the standard ‘male leads the female’ way, but Helen got sick of that after the first thirty minutes.  One could only listen to _The Blue Danube_ so many times before they wanted to scream.  Not only that, but she was sick of Mark stepping on her toes.  When Katerina disappeared to do something for their father, Helen had bullied Mark into switching places with her, forcing _him_ to be the girl in the dance instead.  Helen suffered no more bruised toes that lesson, and Katerina (thankfully) had said nothing.

Ballroom dancing Helen could tolerate, however growing up she had _abhorred_ ballet, especially when she was being forced to learn it.  Helen had attended the first lesson, but after it and the disaster that ensued as a result (that she did not wish to tell a _soul_ about) she started ditching the lessons.  She’d wander the streets of LA instead, which was how Helen stumbled upon hip-hop and street dancing.  Helen had been fascinated by it, and it resulted in her spending the time that was _supposed_ to be focused on learning ballet focused on watching and learning hip-hop and varying forms of street dancing from the teens and older kids who did it around the city.  (Helen’s lack of interest in ballet, and the habit her younger half-siblings had of doing whatever she did, resulted in ballet being dropped from the Institute’s course load.  Ballroom dancing remained, and Helen grudgingly continued attending those lessons for her father’s sake.)

Helen had never really liked ballet.

That was, until she watched Aline dance.

Aline was just, _ugh_ , there were no words to fully describe how _entrancing_ and _tantalizing_ Aline was when she did ballet.  Helen was no stranger to flexibility, every Shadowhunter had to have some degree of it to survive, but Aline was just _obscene_ with how flexible she was.  She would sit through an entire three hour ballet to the end, and pay attention, so long as Aline was playing the lead.  Aline was definitely a girl Helen would go to war for, and part of that reason would be her dancing and her thighs.

The _Angel_ , Aline had nice thighs.  Helen was certain she could crush a demon’s head between those things with little effort.  With those thighs Aline could most certainly pull off a Black Widow and Helen could be her… whatever to Scarlet Johansson, because _thanks Marvel_ , no lesbian lover or anything for her.  Still, Helen made a mental note to convince Aline to stay for Halloween in Los Angeles this year, because through Hell or high water she was getting that Black Widow cosplay on her girlfriend.

Helen was a bit sexually frustrated at the moment, and she stopped and came to the realization that right now was _not_ the best moment to be getting worked up over her girlfriend’s thighs.  Sighing angrily, Helen forced the flush on her face down, and she took one hand and unstuck her hair from the back of her neck.  Placing her hand back on the ladder, Helen reminded herself of the task at hand as she continued to climb.  Demon hunting.  Not fantasizing about her girlfriend.  _Demon hunting._

For the past month, some demon had been snacking on the dancers in one of the ballet companies in Los Angeles.  It had cops baffled, leaving half-eaten corpses of the ballet dancers behind.  _They_ thought it was some sort of rabid animal, loose from the mountains.  The Shadowhunters at the Los Angeles Institute knew better, that it was most likely some sort of demon.  Helen’s guess was an Eidolon, seeing as the dancers were being preyed upon most times from inside the studio, though their bodies were discovered outside.

It was Aline’s idea to investigate from the inside.  She had suggested it, saying that she was fairly good at ballet (fairly good, _ha_ , Helen thought that was an understatement.  Aline was _amazing_ , perfection in a five foot four body.) and the company was begging for new dancers anyway, seeing as they had lost so many and it was looking grim for whether they’d be able to make their show date or not.  Ballet dancers frowned upon tattoos though, and, desperate or not, regardless of how good Aline was, she hadn’t been certain whether or not the company would take her because of some of the permanent runes she had- like the _Voyance_ ruin tattooed to the back of her right hand.  Helen had been the amazing girlfriend and saved the day with her magnificent make-up magic.  The right color foundation, a bit of hairspray and sealer, and Aline had a sweat-proof (and slightly itchy and sticky, unfortunately) second skin covering her marks.

Helen hadn’t been about to let Aline go through with it alone, without back-up.  She snagged a job as a make-up artist for the show, and attended rehearsals and helped the dancers (and _Aline_ ) get dressed and do their hair and make-up.  Luckily, the company didn’t seem to have a problem with anyone other than the dancers having tattoos.  Because the company didn’t care, Helen was able to get away with not having her _Voyance_ rune covered, and she didn’t have to hide the _Equilibrium_ rune that showed from under the collar of her long-sleeved black shirt.

Helen was extremely grateful for the _Equilibrium_ rune at the moment, as it helped her keep her balance.  Her _Stealth_ rune was another one she was grateful for as well, seeing as silence was key here, since Helen was fairly certain she had found their Eidolon.  And her tracking of it had led her straight to the very top of the catwalk above the stage.

She was fairly certain it was one of the stage hands.  Helen had thought she had seen the flash of the extra set of teeth all Eidolon had in the mirror when he (she? it?) was talking to a dancer across the aisle, but it had been nothing concrete enough to warrant pulling out any of her concealed weaponry just yet.  Once the dancers had exeunt to the stage for the first act, Helen had commenced with following the stage hand.

Pulling herself straight up, Helen took slow steps along the catwalk.  There were waist-high railings on either side of her, but there were wide spaces between each support, and the floor beneath her was slotted.  When Helen had been younger, she had developed a fear of heights, but that was a fear long conquered.

Halfway across, she dared a look down.  Even from way above, Helen could still pick Aline out from all the dancers down below.  Helen could pick Aline out from any crowd, really, that was how attuned she was to the other girl.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” A voice said, and Helen jerked her head up, admittedly caught off guard.

It was the stage hand she had been following.  Of course, it had been Helen’s intent of having him (her? The stage hand looked pretty androgynous, and that was the typical look of Eidolon demons as well.) find her up on the catwalk.  If the stage hand was just a hired hand like her, oops, her bad, mistakes happened, but if, _if_ , it was the Eidolon, the catwalk, albeit narrow, was the perfect secluded place to kill a demon and not cause a panic.

Well, Helen had to amend, it might cause a _slight_ panic.  With the slotted floor beneath her shoes, if she killed the Eidolon up on the catwalk, there was the very high possibility that the ichor would drip down to the stage and hit the dancers.  Probably.  There was the potential of causing mass hysteria.

Helen wondered how long was left in the act.

“Sorry,” Helen slowly brought her right hand up in front of her, reaching for hair, deliberately flashing her _Voyance_ rune to the stage hand.  If he was human, there wouldn’t be anything but a possible mild curiosity to the tattoo.  If he was _demon_ , however…

Helen was slammed roughly against the railing of the catwalk, bending backwards over it.

“ _Shadowhunter_ ,” The Eidolon hissed, eyes slitting.  It didn’t completely abandon its human skin, and Helen found that he had _extremely_ bad breath, which fanned down on her face in a disgustingly hot wave.

“How forward of you,” Helen laughed, breathless, hands clutching the railing in a white-knuckled grip.  “Unfortunately, I am spoken for.”  In a swift, decisive, movement, Helen slammed her knee upward into its groin area.  Typically not an effective move against an Eidolon demon, but as it was still in a human skin, it had her intended effect.

Helen took the opportunity provided for her and slipped off from the railing so she was standing in the middle of the catwalk.  Belatedly, she realized she had slipped off to the _wrong_ side of the catwalk; Helen had left the ladder completely open for the Eidolon to retreat back downstairs.  It was such a _stupid_ and _amateur_ move, Helen was ashamed she did it.

Luckily, the Eidolon hadn’t caught her slip up just yet.  Helen pulled out one of her concealed throwing knives, and aimed.  Before she could throw the knife however, the Eidolon was tackling her to the ground.  (Catwalk floor, _whatever_ , Helen wasn’t looking for semantics.)  The knife leapt from her grip as she hit the floor, skittering across the slotted floor.  A gasp left Helen as the side of her head slammed against the catwalk, cheek mashed against it.  She craned her head, trying to see where her knife ended up.  It wasn’t so much that Helen didn’t have other weapons concealed upon her person, but if it fell off the catwalk in the midst of the fight, there was the chance that it could hit one of the dancers.  And explaining the death of a mundane to the Clave would be a mite difficult, even if it was an accident. 

The knife was just out of her reach, but it was (thankfully) resting in the middle of the catwalk, having come to a stop.  Not that Helen would have been able to reach for the knife of course, as the Eidolon was doing a pretty good job of pinning her to the catwalk.  Looking down at the stage below, Helen could easily pick her girlfriend out of the lineup of dancers.

As if thinking of Aline summoned her attention, Aline’s head angled slightly to look up toward the catwalk.  Her face didn’t change from the mask that it was in for the performance, but Helen could see a small furrowing of her brow, and a tightening at her girlfriend’s lips.  Helen maneuvered herself as well as she could, given the circumstances, gave Aline a thumbs up to signal she was okay, and mouthed a pretty garbled version of what Helen hoped Aline would understand her as saying, ‘ _I’ve got this babe.’_

Regrettably however, Helen had to return her attention to the demon literally breathing down her neck.  Sighing, she rolled her eyes, angling her head to face the demon.  “Two words, breath mints- _seriously_.” Helen, ever reckless, slammed her forehead into the Eidolon’s.  Sharp curses burst forth from the demon, probably very vulgar and profound, and most definitely insulting the sexual habits of her mother.  However, Helen had never paid attention that much in her demon language lessons (or any language lessons at all, really), so she could only guess that that was what the Eidolon was cursing at her.  That, and seeing as she never really knew her mother, Helen couldn’t really dredge up any offense to the Eidolon’s profanity, mock or otherwise.

Almost instantly, Helen regretted her decision, because Eidolon skulls, regardless of the form they were in, were hard as _fuck_.  As the Eidolon backed off, Helen performed a backwards somersault, grabbing her knife from the catwalk as she rolled.  In the time it took Helen to grab her knife and get back to her feet, the Eidolon had abandoned its human façade, adapting to something with more tentacles than Helen really felt comfortable with.  Still, regardless of her comfort levels, she still threw the knife with unwavering aim.

The knife sunk into the flesh at the base of one of the tentacles, and Helen watched with satisfaction as the Eidolon buckled, but it wasn’t enough to kill the demon.  Unfortunately, the remaining tentacles seemed to have ganged up on Helen; while she was distracted with the ones that were waving in front of her, one tentacle had looped around just outside of her peripheral.  The offending appendage snagged around Helen’s ankle, and yanked her to the side.  Her ribs collided quite painfully with the railing, and then she was being pulled _underneath_ it, dangling upside down above the stage, swung, released, and then she was freefalling.

Then, Helen did something she wasn’t supposed to.

The Codex stated that Shadowhunter blood was dominant; it always was, regardless of the pairing: Shadowhunter and mundane, Shadowhunter and werewolf, or Shadowhunter and faerie.  However, what the Codex did _not_ mention was that with each of the various pairings there was the possibility of a… little extra, so to speak, tagging along with the angel blood.  With mundanes, it was simple- the only thing capable of being passed on were any genetic diseases that Shadowhunters were susceptible to already.  Werewolves had a fifty-fifty shot of passing lycanthropy on to a child if the father was a werewolf; if the mother was a werewolf, it was a hundred percent guarantee that the child would be a werewolf.  And then, faeries…

As far as Helen knew, it was just her and Mark for any known half-faerie Shadowhunters.  No one knew beforehand what would come about such a union.  They knew now that both she and her brother could withstand the runes necessary to be Shadowhunters, but no one knew what else had come along with their angel blood.

Most fae magic was nature based; it could start fires, pull water from the air, shift rocks, and, more importantly, _manipulate wind._   Many faeries were born with one nature specialty, and bred their magic around it.  Apparently that held true even for those who held half the blood of those of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts.

Once, when Helen was around nine or ten, she had climbed up into the rafters of the Los Angeles Institute’s training room.  It wasn’t something she hadn’t done before, and Helen had spent several hours in the rafters before, either avoiding her younger siblings, or watching the adults and other Shadowhunters train.  The only thing different was that Mark had climbed up with her, that time.

God, she couldn’t even remember what they had been fighting about, only that it was about _something_.  But, really, the topic didn’t matter much, just the outcome.  Helen had said something that had obviously offended her brother, arguing red-faced back and forth as they stood in the rafters.  And then Mark pushed Helen, right off of the rafter.

Helen had flown a tremendous distance into the space between the rafters when her brother pushed her, too far from any rope that she could feasibly grab on and at least try and slow her descent.  But Helen remembered the panic, clear and sharp, in her mind when she was younger, trying frantically to do something, _anything_ to slow her fall, so that she wouldn’t die.  She could recall thinking that if only she could reach the rope, she would be able to at least get out of this with only severely rope burned hands, not a broken neck.  Then she _was_ holding the rope, swinging harshly back and forth, grasping for dear life, gasping like a fish out of water.  Helen had been sobbing, thankful that she was okay, and she had heard her father shouting, felt the rope jerk to a stop as someone on the ground grabbed the bottom, and she was coerced into shimmying down the rope to the ground.

At the time, Helen hadn’t known it, but she had used fae magic.  Her dad hadn’t said anything after about how Helen had been able to grab the rope, and Helen, who had been in shock at the time, couldn’t remember. Mark had told her later that she had practically _flown_ to the rope, and a sharp breeze had rattled through the training room, despite it being windowless.  Later, her father would tell her to _never_ do that again, and while at first Helen would think he meant walking the rafters without safety ropes, she would later realize he meant something else entirely.

Apparently, with half-faerie Shadowhunters, some fae magic _could_ be passed through the blood along with the angel blood from the Nephilim parent.  Helen’s nature affiliation was with air, with the wind, and that was how she had survived the training room ordeal when she had been little.  Closing her eyes, Helen forced herself to remain calm, and summoned that feeling.  That _want_ , that _need_ , the need to be up, clinging to the rungs of the catwalk, hanging for dear life, instead of falling to her death on the dancers below.

Below, a cymbal crashed in the orchestra, and Helen felt her fingers clench between the rungs of the catwalk floor.  There was a light ruffling of a breeze, and opening her eyes, she looked up and grinned.  It had worked.

By the time Helen had maneuvered herself back onto the catwalk, the demon was long gone, along with her throwing knife.  Helen didn’t bother entertaining the idea that it was still hanging around.  Unless it was a preposterously stupid demon, the Eidolon would have booked it to a different eating venue after realizing that there was a Shadowhunter around.  She scaled back down the ladder, and wandered over to the dressing room.

When the first act ended, Helen was all but accosted by Aline in the corner of the room.

“What the _hell_ was that, Helen?” Her hands were placed firmly on her hips in fists, mouth scowling up at her as Aline did her best to look intimidating.  It didn’t really work, considering that she was about half a foot shorter than Helen, but Helen was always one for not giving it away.

“What the hell was what, Aline?” Helen asked anyway, playing coy because she had had a crappy first act, and was admittedly still a bit sexually frustrated.  They had eight minutes left of intermission; that was enough time to sneak a few kisses and still be able to fix Aline up to make the second act.

“I’m talking about your scene on the catwalk, that’s what!” Aline jabbed a finger into Helen’s chest.  Helen mildly worried that Aline was talking about when the Eidolon had dropped her off of the catwalk, but she continued, “That demon could have _killed_ you, couldn’t you have waited until _now_ to go chasing after it _with_ back-up?”

“Ah,” Helen grinned wickedly, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand, lacing their fingers together, leaning close. “But then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of listening to your heated tirade at me.” Helen leaned in to steal a kiss, but Aline, so horrible and refusing, pushed Helen away.

“I can’t believe you!” She threw her hands up in the air angrily, red that wasn’t blush coating her cheeks.  “At least tell me that you killed it.”

“Not exactly,” Helen admitted.  So she hadn’t seen it; that was a mild relief for Helen.  “It did its best to punt me off the catwalk, and escaped while I was preoccupied with getting back on solid ground.”

“I give up,” Aline smoothed her tutu, frustration clear on her face, needing something to do with her hands. “This entire thing was a _waste_ , and I suffered through the pain of pointe shoes for absolutely _nothing_.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Helen said quickly.  _Nothing_ was a waste if Helen was able to see that much of Aline’s thighs, demon hunting gone wrong or not. “Don’t say that. I _did_ manage to get a knife in it, so there’s still a chance it could be in the building.”  Probably not a good one, but Helen wasn’t about to admit that to Aline.  Aline huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, you go back out and continue with the show, and I’ll keep looking for it, okay?” Helen continued quickly, wanting to appease her girlfriend.  “I’ll even text Mark and get him ready for a city-wide demon hunt in case it did get away.”  Aline rolled her eyes, but gave in.

“Fine,” Aline agreed reluctantly.  “But you don’t go after it by yourself- either wait for me, or your brother.”

“Promise,” Helen nodded, sneaking a kiss on Aline’s cheek, turning her around.  “Now get back out there and do your thing, babe.” And yeah, Helen might have slapped that ass as she pushed Aline toward the stage doors, but she was down the hall and out of sight before Aline could protest.

The next two acts were spent scouring the halls, every room and every nook and cranny of the building for the Eidolon.  Helen couldn’t find it though, and when she had eventually admitted defeat toward the end of the second act, retracing her way back to the dressing room in order to text Mark for assistance, Helen found her cellphone missing.  It wasn’t that distressing, Helen figured she just misplaced it somewhere and it would eventually turn up, but she still passed the news on to Aline during the second intermission, and used Aline’s cell phone to text Mark instead.

By the time the ballet had ended, Helen still hadn’t found the Eidolon.  She wandered around the second floor anyway, double checking rooms as she waited for the audience and other dancers to clear out.  Once Helen felt a sufficient amount of time had passed, she descended to the first floor, returning to the dressing room to retrieve her girlfriend.  However, when she arrived at the dressing room, Aline was not there, nor her stuff.

“I think she went to the front hall,” One of the dancers who was still there said when Helen inquired.  “Maybe said something ‘bout meeting her folks.”

“No,” Another said, shaking her head as she pulled bobby pins from her hair, freeing it from its bun.  “I _just_ saw her- she was headed towards the back exit.  That’ll be your best bet.”

“Alright, thanks.” Helen exited the room, headed to the back exit.  It led to the alley just to the side of the building.

The alley was empty when Helen stepped out, letting the door slam shut behind her.  The night air was cool for late October, but Helen didn’t mind the breeze that passed through.  She had weathered colder weather before, this was nothing.  Helen stood there for a moment, taking the time to breathe, assuring herself that they _would_ find that Eidolon, when something crunched on the ground behind her.  Startled, Helen whirled around, coming face-to-face with Aline.

“ _Jesus_ , you scared me Aline,” Helen had a hand placed over her heart, as if that could still the frantic beating of her heart. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” Aline apologized, but the smile on her face told Helen that her girlfriend wasn’t sorry in the least.  She held out her hand.  “Here, I found your phone.”

“Thanks babe,” Helen grabbed the phone, bending and pecking Aline on the cheek.  “Total lifesaver you are; throw me out to sea _any_ time.”  Helen slid her phone into her pocket, and didn’t miss the way Aline’s eyes flickered in confusion.  She didn’t think anything of it- half the stuff Helen said didn’t make sense to even her, on occasion.  It was a bad attempt at a pick-up line anyway.

“Where’s your bag?” Helen asked, noticing that the black duffle Aline had brought was conspicuously absent.  The duffle had contained not only Aline’s spare clothes, but the seraph blades they had brought along with them and Aline’s chakrams.

“Oh, you know,” Aline shrugged.  “Around.” The smile hadn’t left her face.  And, as Helen thought about it, she hadn’t actually heard her girlfriend exit the building.  Alarm bells started ringing.  Aline stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around Helen’s neck.

“What about the demon?” Helen asked, wanting Aline to talk.  Open her mouth.  Let Helen look into her mouth without attracting _too_ much suspicion.

But Aline was too close, too upfront, for Helen to get a decent look.  Aline gave another shrug, but there was a dark glint in her eyes.  Helen could feel her hands shift to settle on the sides of her neck as she stared into her eyes.  From the corner of her eyes though, she saw something familiar flicker.

Aline leaned in for a kiss, and while Helen was _always_ up for kissing her girlfriend, she pushed Aline away, hands on her shoulders.  They were smooth, not sticky, and Helen blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. “You remind me of the babe.”

“ _What_?” Aline asked, confusion marring her features.  Helen ran her hands down Aline’s arms- _smooth, not sticky_ -and repeated herself.

“You remind me of the babe,” She said more confidently this time.  Aline’s brow furrowed, confused.

“What babe?” Aline’s voice came, more confident than her face appeared.

“The babe with the power.” Helen grinned as Aline looked at her, then around, in confusion.  Her hand slipped down to hold Aline’s, and Aline’s confusion only grew as her own voice answered,

“What power?”

“The power of voodoo.”  Helen continued, mirth in her eyes, not stopping Aline as she yanked her hand- _smooth, not sticky_ -out of her own.

“Who do?” Aline’s voice questioned,  Aline backing away from Helen, hands forming claws, and Helen echoed,

“You do.” She stared Aline down as she scowled, growled, mouth opening, revealing-

“Do what?” Her voice came a last time, and Helen finished unflinchingly,

“Remind me of the babe,” As a deadly sharp silver chakram came from the side, decapitating Aline.

A spray of black ichor erupted from her neck as Aline’s head dropped to the ground, dissolving as quickly as the rest of the body.  At Helen’s side, Aline flickered into existence, black duffle slung across her shoulder as she stared disgustedly at the mess of demon blood at their feet.  She looked up, catching Helen’s eyes, and made a face.

“ _Please_ tell me you did _not_ kiss that,” Aline demanded, and Helen laughed.

“Aw, come on babe, you know I have better taste than that.” Helen cupped her girlfriend’s cheeks and swooped in for a kiss, not giving her a chance to pull away.  It was a wonderful moment, only ruined when Aline had the audacity to pull away.

She muttered something darkly in Chinese, which Helen should have been able to understand, but she had admittedly been a bit lax in her language lessons lately.  Helen didn’t let that stop her though.

“Mm, yeah, speak that sexy Cantonese,” Helen grinned against Aline’s lips, their noses touching.  Aline rolled her eyes, eyelashes brushing Helen’s.

“I’ve _told_ you before, I speak Mandarin, not- mmph,” Aline tried to protest, but really, Helen could think of better things her girlfriend could be putting her mouth to use for _other_ than calling her an idiot.  This was merely one of them.

Aline’s hands found her hips, and Helen’s found their way subtly into Aline’s sweats.  Helen’s tongue, also, found its way not-so-subtly into Aline’s mouth, prodding around happily, especially with the knowledge that there was no second set of teeth behind the first.

“Oh, _gross_ , I did _not_ need to see that,” Came from the mouth of the alley, and Helen and Aline reluctantly broke apart.  Aline moved her hands off of Helen’s hips, effectively chastised, but Helen rebelliously kept hers in Aline’s pants.

Mark was standing at the alley entrance, Emma and Jules on either side of him.  Mark’s hands were covering their eyes.  Shielding them from Helen and Aline’s wanton debauchery, no doubt.

“Protecting the children’s sanctity over our own, now are we?” Helen greeted her brother cheerfully, but removed her hands nevertheless.  For the children’s sake, of course.

“I wouldn’t have had to protect their ‘sanctity’,” Ah finger quotes.  Helen loved finger quotes. “If you had some common decency like a _normal_ person-”

“Ay, but there’s the rub,” Helen interrupted her brother gleefully.  “None of us are normal people, brother of mine.”  Mark groaned, obviously fed up with his sister, and buried his face in his hands.

“Where’s the demon?” Emma bounced on her heels anxiously, looking around, as Helen and Aline picked their way out of the alley.

“We have to find it, duh,” Jules said from her other side, and Emma scowled at him.  Helen resisted the urge to laugh; puppy love at its finest.

“Actually, we took care of it,” Helen announced, slinging a casual arm around Aline’s shoulders.  She reached down and pulled Emma’s nose when she pouted.  “Sorry sprat, maybe next time.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Emma whined, and glared at Jules when he stepped on her foot.  Mark rolled his eyes, nudging them in opposite directions as he placed himself between them.

“Who’s ready to head back to the Institute?” Helen asked, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.  “Because I, for one, am ready for a nap.” Or a night’s sleep.  It was probably close to ten-thirty at night by now.

“ _You’re_ tired?” Aline mocked, pointing a hand down at her feet, looking up at Helen, eyebrows slanted toward her nose. “ _You’re_ not the one who spent three hours dancing.  _On pointe._   My feet are _killing_ me.  Please tell me we can at least take a cab back.”

“Aw, poor baby,” Helen laughed, “Why don’t I carry you home?” And regardless of her brother’s views of ‘protecting the children’s innocence’, Helen dove in, kissing Aline, before sweeping her girlfriend off of her feet into a bridal carry.

The kiss, obviously, elicited the expected reactions from Emma and Jules, which to say was sibling gagging (lovingly, of course) and faux disgust at the display of affection.  When Helen swept Aline of her feet, she was rewarded with a swift high-pitched yelp of surprise, and a fist driving into her clavicle.

“Let me down!” Aline protested, “ _Now,_ Helen!”

“Nah,” Helen shook her head, grinning.  “I think I’ll keep you like this for a while.”  Helen, however, was thankful that Aline didn’t have her chakrams in hand- no doubt they would have been used as an attempt to get down.  Not that Helen thought her girlfriend would do her grievous injury.

“Are you two done flirting?” Mark sighed, looking up from his phone.  Helen hadn’t noticed him pull it out.

“ _Never_ ,” Helen answered with relish, earning another flustered jab into her collarbone.

“Well hurry it _up_ , we have a situation on our hands.” Mark sounded serious.  It was normal for Helen’s brother to sound serious; it was his fallback tone with anything during say to day conversation.  But something sounded different this time.  Like it was something serious-serious, instead of the normal seriousness her brother had.

“What is it?” Helen asked, dropping the laughter and smiles.  She stilled- had something happened back at the Institute?  Was everyone okay?

“Dad wants us back now,” Mark said.  “Apparently something went down in New York.  We’re needed in Manhattan-”

“Manhattan?” Aline interrupted, struggling immediately with renewed fervor to stand on her feet.  Helen let her down, nearly getting kicked in the chin.  “That’s where the Lightwoods- is everyone okay?” That was right; Helen had a tendency to forget, but the Penhallow and Lightwood families were close.  Aline was friends with all the Lightwood children, and from what Aline had told Helen, it sounded like their father had put in for the Inquisitor position.  If Robert Lightwood became Inquisitor, the two families would be seeing a lot more of each other, considering Aline’s mother was Consul.

“I don’t know,” Mark answered stiffly, quickly.  Helen’s eyes narrowed.  _Liar._   “We should get going- Dad said to get back right away.”

“Well, we can’t keep him waiting then,” Aline said.  “Let’s get going then.”  Without waiting for anyone to say anything in response, Aline grabbed Emma and Jules’ hands, kicking off on a brisk pace down the street, dragging them with her.

Mark started after them, but Helen snagged her brother’s wrist, stopping him.

“What _else_ did Dad say?” She demanded, staring him down.  He stared back, hesitating before saying,

“Jace Herondale is missing,” Mark admitted, unable to hide the truth from his sister.

“Well then,” Helen set her mouth in a line, and started a quick pace to catch up with Aline, Emma, and Jules.  “Seems like we will miss Halloween in LA this year.”

* * *

 


End file.
